They found another clump of bramble a few miles further on, where they paused while they filled themselves with blackberries, and a little later they passed a small orchard where they helped themselves to a couple of apples each. Randall reflected that it was lucky the hypersleep machines had woken them up in the autumn. If it had been any other time of the year they would be very hungry by now. A man with the right skills and knowledge might be able to live off the land in a medieval world, but none of them possessed that knowledge. Not even Loach.
They spent the night in a large farmer's shed filled with a huge pile of loose hay. It was warm and comfortable but filled with rats which terrified Jane, making her give a shriek whenever she saw one. The hay was also alive with thousands of small insects that Emily named but which Randall forgot the moment she'd stopped talking.
Having seen each other in their bare skins the day before, they felt little embarrassment as they stripped off their potato sack clothing and hung them up to dry. Then they settled themselves down in the hay, trying to ignore the rustling and itching of the insects crawling over them while they tried to get some sleep. Emily held Jane in her arms to try to help her forget the rats, but the younger girl's shrieks still woke the others a couple of times in the night as one of them crawled over her and bit her bare skin.
They were all exhausted and slept well into the following day, and it was full daylight when the large main doors opened and a dog bounded in, running right up to the hibernators and barking madly at them. "Hush, Jess!" said a man's voice. "Let the rats be."
"It's not the rats," said Loach, brushing hay from his body as he rose to his feet. "It's us."
The man staggered back in alarm and raised a pitchfork at them. "Whet's this?" he exclaimed. "Thieves and beggars? Get out! Get out o' my barn!"
"We're leaving," said Emily, reaching for her potato sack clothing. "We just wanted somewhere dry and warm to spend the night. We'll be leaving you in peace and going on our way."
The man stared at the sight of her bare body, and his eyes widened even further at the sight of Jane. Then he remembered himself and turned his back on them as they dressed. "Well and good " he said, his face turning red with embarrassment. "No harm done, I say. Come on, Jess, let's leave 'em to get thez clothes on."
Randall's clothes were still slightly damp from the previous day's rain and smelled of mold but he pulled them on anyway, hoping they would soon dry out. This day looked a lot brighter than the one before had been. The sun was shining in through the open door and the blue of the sky was broken only by a few fluffy white clouds drifting lazily by above them.
"We're sorry for intruding on your property," Emily said as they left the building. "We wouldn't have done it if we'd had any choice."
"Think nething of it," the farmer replied. "The hay don't mind and neither do the cows."
"How far are we from Tettlehall?" asked Loach.
"Tettlehall?" said the farmer. "That where yez going? Why, I'm going thet way myself, soon as I've fed the cows. Ye're welcome tae ride with me, if ye like. Take some o the strain from yer weary feet."
Jane laughed in delight and relief. "That would be wonderful!" she said. "Thank you so much!"
"No worries, miss, if I'm going that way anyway, why shouldn't ye hitch a ride? Costs me nothing. So long as ye don't mind waiting for an hour or so."
"We don't mind at all," said Emily, equally pleased and relieved. "Thank you for your kindness."
☆☆☆
The man's name turned out to be Ronald Mahill. For the past week he'd been driving a cart load of turnips into the city every day to sell, and he had another five loads to go before he'd delivered his entire harvest. He was a kindly soul and was in the habit of offering lifts to people he passed on the road. Either into the city, sitting on the hard, round root vegetables, or back, sitting in the empty cart.
One of Ronald's sons, a suspicious looking lad called Amos with muscles that bulged under his tawny skin, rode beside his father on the cart's driving bench cradling a loaded crossbow in his arms. Randall wondered whether he'd ever shot a man with it. He looked as if he'd been cast from a different mold from his father. There was a look in the boy's eye as he regarded the hibernators that made the former businessman think that, even if he hadn't yet taken a human life, he wouldn't have any problem with it if he thought he had reason to. He had darker hair than his father and a broader build. Randall wondered if he was an orphan who'd been taken in by Ronald Mahill after the death of his parents. A tragedy of some kind in the boy's past would explain the hard gleam in the boy's eyes, he thought, or am I just making up fantasies to relieve the boredom?
The turnips were hard under their bottoms as they sat on them, but the relief in their feet as they dangled over the side of the cart was marvellously welcome and they found themselves enjoying the ride as they bounced and jostled their way along the bumpy road. The sun was warm on their bodies and their clothes were soon completely dry.
At around mid afternoon they stopped for a meal and Ronald produced a huge wheel of cheese that he broke into pieces and handed around. The hibernators were starving by then and Randall wolfed down his piece as quickly as he could, washing it down with a swallow of ale as the farmer passed a clay bottle around. Later, as they resumed their voyage, they passed other carts and wagons on the road. Ronald Mahill waved friendly greetings to some of them and reined in the horses for a minute or two to pass a few words. Amos didn't take part in the conversations, though, and kept his dark, narrowed eyes on the road ahead and behind. His only concession to the existence of the man on the other cart was to give him a nod when he asked whether he was well.
The boy was equally reticent when Randall tried to talk to him, answering only with grunts and monosyllables, and the businessman guessed that he was only doing as much as that for the sake of politeness. His father was much chattier, though, and soon the four hibernators knew as much about his friends and family as if they'd known him all their lives, their head phones storing away every tiniest detail for later recollection even though they all knew that they would very likely never meet this man again.
The conversation provided them with a great deal of background information about this world they'd found themselves in. Information they'd been too preoccupied and distracted to get from Wilks and Gelda. Ronald Mahill's knowledge extended, either by direct experience or by gossip and rumour, for around a hundred miles in every direction. Most of that area consisted of the Kingdom of Saxony which was ruled over by King David the Third. Its capital was the city of Lendaron which stood on the north bank of the Great River Thayme and Tettlehall was the kingdom's second city, located on the south coast.
To the south was the Great Southern Sea, across which lay many fabulous and mysterious countries that most people knew only by the fanciful stories told by sailors. Places such as Nundo, Delpore and Freet, although Ronald Mahill freely admitted that he had no idea whether these places actually existed or had just been made up by thirsty sailors entertaining the land lubbers for the price of a tankard of ale.
To the north and west of Saxony were the Wildlands inhabited only by orcs and savage tribes of humans, while to the east was the Channel, a narrow stretch of water separating Bretannia, the land on which Saxony was located, from The Continent on which many other kingdoms were to be found. They were surrounded by more wildlands, and somewhere to the north was the fabled, mystical land of the Gree Folk renowned for their great beauty and their magical abilities.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"So, we're in southern England," said Randall to Loach in a low voice as Ronald Mahill began talking to Emily about the animals and plants to be found thereabouts. "What used to be England, anyway."
The former crime boss nodded. "I'm guessing that Lendaron is what they call London these days. I'm guessing it's rather smaller than it was in our day."
"I wonder whether any of the historic buildings are still there. A thousand years! By God!"
Loach still looked sceptical that so much time had really passed, though, and turned to look at the countryside passing by beside them. There was a wide, silvery river at the bottom of a gentle slope to the right and it was covered by an almost solid carpet of white birds. Something disturbed them and they lifted into the sky in a great cloud of white that brought gasps of delight from both the woman. Even Randall stared in astonishment despite his general disdain for the natural world. He'd never seen so many animals in one place before. Not even in a farm.
The farmer and his son ignored the spectacle. For them, it was an everyday sight. Mundane and unremarkable. "It's a fine day, ennit?" said Ronald, turning around to speak to Randall.
"A bit drier than yesterday," the former businessman replied drily.
The farmer laughed. "It do be indeed! A farmer likes rain most of the time so we mustn't curse VIX fer it, but it's a reet nuisance when yez trying ter dig up turnips! Makes the soil nice an soft I seppose. It's them thet grows corn I feel sorry fer. They spend all year trying to grow it tall an then the rain cemes an batters it all down flat! Makes it twice as hard to harvest! Yay, me dad were reet ter gae inter cows an turnips! Thanks, Pa, if yer looking down!"
He was staring up into the sky as he said that, and Randall saw that VIX had risen and was in that part of the sky, shining like a daylight star. "God himself," he said, remembering what Wilks had told them of his religious beliefs.
"Yay," replied Ronald. "God Himself looking down on the world an everyone in it. Meks yer feel good. Makes yer feel safe." Amos looked across at him at this but the boy said nothing.
"Must be embarrassing sometimes, though," said Randall. "Knowing God's watching while you're answering a call of nature or making love to your wife."
"Only if he can see through the roof of me cottage," replied the farmer with a smile. "We ain't done it under the open sky since we were newlyweds an if God had been watching back then we wouldn't have cared. We might even have taught him a thing or two."
Randall decided to see what he knew of the solar system's other inhabitants. "And what about all the people up there?" he asked. "Maybe they were watching too."
"What other people?"
"The people like you and me, living up there. On the moon, on Mars. Up in space."
"People on the moon? Are ya joshing me?"
"You know there are people up there, right? You can see the signs of their activity on the moon. All those regular lines, the squares and circles. Clear signs of intelligent activity. There are people up there, it's as clear as day."
Ronald laughed. "Yay, yer right! I reckon it's them black skins from across the sea. They sail their ships right up to the moon an trade with the angels."
"The angels?" said Randall, who was starting to grow frustrated. This idiotic farmer clearly thought that Randall was pulling his leg. "There are angels on the moon?"
"Where did you think the angels live? Crumby?"
"Is your father an angel?"
Randall caught Amos giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. A look of impatience and contempt that he immediately tried to hide by looking away. He felt anger rising inside him. Both father and son thought that he was playing the fool. Talking nonsense for fun. They seemed to know nothing of any humans living elsewhere than the planet Earth. Only God and his angels lived in space. Maybe these people have been living this simple lifestyle for so many generations that they'd forgotten that any other way of life was possible. If so, that was worrying, because it suggested that there was no contact, no contact at all, between Earth and the rest of the solar system, and if that were true then Randall was trapped here, in this miserable, primitive lifestyle, for the rest of his life, which would be rather short without proper medical care.
He put the thought out of his head. Even if his worst fears turned out to be true, he could send a message to the space dwellers. Mathematical symbols drawn in sand on the beach or by pressing down the corn in a corn field. Scientific formulae large enough to be seen from orbit. Something to tell anyone watching from space that there was a man of education and sophistication on this planet, wanting to be rescued. They would come to investigate, even if just out of curiosity, and when they found him they would take him back with them, delighted that they had had the good fortune to encounter another civilised man of the same quality as themselves. With his business acumen he would soon carve out a place of authority among them and his life of civilised ease would be assured.
The thought made him feel better. He settled back on the cart, resting his back against the tall pile of turnips behind him, and watched the picturesque landscape passing by beside him. It was a pretty enough place, he supposed, but he wouldn't want to spend the rest of his life here. He closed his eyes and felt himself becoming dozy. A brief nap would be nice, he thought.
He was brought back to full wakefulness by a voice directed at him. "So, what did you do?"
He opened his eyes to see Emily looking at him. "I beg your pardon?" he said.
"What did you do? What crime did you commit?"
"What makes you think I committed a crime?"
She laughed. "There has to be a reason you were in a highly illegal black hibernaculum rather than one of the legitimate ones. You were wanted by the law, weren't you?"
Randall wasn't in the mood to indulge the woman's curiosity so he just stared out at the passing landscape. Maybe if he paid her no attention she'd stop trying to talk to him.
"I reckon he was a crime boss," she said. "Like you."
Randall looked back to see that she was talking to Loach now, the gangster having moved forward to sit beside her. Loach stared at Randall for a few moments, as if trying to remember the name of an old acquaintance met at a party, then turned back to the eco warrior.
"I don't recognise him," he said, "and I knew all the big players. Not just in the UK but around the world. If he was into organised crime, he was small time. A regional outfit, maybe, subordinate to one of the big timers."
"Or maybe he rose to power after you went to sleep," Emily suggested. "After all, he might have been put to sleep twenty, thirty years after the rest of us. Maybe he's the guy who took over your old outfit."
"Is that right?" said Loach to Randall. "Are, were, you a member of The Chelsea, Peckham Partnership?"
"No," replied Randall. He hoped that the simple denial would be the end of it."
"Maybe it had a different name by the time he took over," suggested Emily. "What was it called, Randall? The outfit you were boss of?"
"What I did is in the past now," Randall replied irritably. "It doesn't matter."
"He thinks we'll be shocked and horrified by his crimes," said Emily to Loach. She turned back to Randall. "I was responsible for six major attacks between '88 and '95. The biggest was the Wudongde Di San dam. Nearly two hundred construction workers killed."
"That was a green energy project," said Loach, staring at her in confusion. "I never understood what you had against it."
"It would have flooded nearly a thousand square miles of fragile terrain containing dozens of endangered species. It couldn't be allowed to go ahead."
"But an eco-terrorist sabotaging a green energy project..."
"The point I'm trying to make is that I'm not ashamed of my actions."
Randall nevertheless noticed that she kept her voice too low for the farmer or his son to overhear and he felt a moment of amusement.
"I estimate that I killed nearly a thousand people during those seven years. A thousand enemies of the planet. And you, Mister Loach. I would imagine you've taken a few lives during the course of your career, right?"
"I mainly had people do that kind of thing for me," Loach replied, "but you're right. I did have to get my hands dirty on a couple of occasions."
"But Randall here," said Emily, "he thinks he's better than we are, even though he must have had some reason to hide from the law." She turned back to the older man. "Well, Randall? You want us to believe that you never got your hands dirty once in all your years of controlling a vast crime empire?"
"Believe whatever you want," Randall replied. "Makes no difference to me."
Emily laughed again. "Then there's Snow White here," she said, turning to Jane. "I bet your greatest crime was not paying the carbon tax for a birthday party."
"A Christian upbringing is nothing to be ashamed of," said Jane defensively. "I suppose your youth was debauched and shameless."
"Shameless, certainly," said Emily with a sly smile at the younger woman. "And what's wrong with a little bedauchery? Great word by the way. Did your mother teach it to you?"
"You leave my mother out of this! She was a better woman than you could ever dream of being."
By the sound of it it's a miracle she ever became a mother."
Randall ignored the banter and looked up at the sky again. He imagined himself in a large spaceship, watching the planet below and its wretched, miserable inhabitants through the thick, curving glass of a viewing gallery. There would be a glass of wine in his hand, and nearby would be a couple of servitor robots waiting to obey his commands. While engaged in this pleasant fantasy he drifted off to sleep.